


Epilogue

by drforrester



Category: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1966)
Genre: M/M, originally published Jan 2018 - rewritten Feb 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-08 08:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13454796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drforrester/pseuds/drforrester
Summary: Everything was perfect.Senex and Domina would be together to stay, so it seemed, much to Senex’s dismay, Erronius was reunited with his long-lost children, and Hero and Philia were to be married in a month’s time.Yes, things couldn’t possibly be any better or, so thought Pseudolus, free citizen.Hysterium saw things rather differently.





	Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of the first chapter of “Epilogue” that was originally published in January, 2018. 
> 
> Over a year later, I wanted to update this fic and really give it the quality that it deserves since it is still, as far as I know, the only Forum fanfic in existence. 
> 
> Reminder that this takes place in the musical-verse, not the movie-verse, despite what the tag says. I’ve never seen the movie but I have seen the musical live and I also own the script for reference. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you all enjoy this updated version of “Epilogue” and please look forward to a second chapter very soon!

Everything was perfect. 

Senex and Domina would be together to stay, so it seemed, much to Senex’s dismay, Erronius was reunited with his long-lost children, and Hero and Philia were to be married in a month’s time. 

Yes, things couldn’t possibly be any better or, so thought Pseudolus, free citizen. 

Hysterium saw things rather differently. 

It was not generally in his nature to be narcissistic but it was difficult not to think of himself now. Everything was perfect for everyone but him. 

What of him? Still a slave and a lesser in the eyes of every citizen. 

Being a slave had never bothered him before, he told himself. He had even taken pride in it. So why should it haunt him now? 

He was certain that it had something to do Pseudolus and his newfound freedom. 

There had been little need of convincing for Senex to hire Pseudolus to help prepare for the wedding. It was just sensible with Pseudolus in need of money and the necessity to have as much extra help as possible. It was not altogether much different from being a slave except for the small matter of his being paid which, naturally, made all the difference. 

Hysterium had been ordered to assist Pseudolus in making preparations. Being ordered about had just seemed like a normal part of his life until now. But suddenly, he was aware of the helplessness that came with having no choice in the matter and it felt degrading. 

Pseudolus’ voice interrupted his thoughts. “Hysterium, come over here for a minute.” 

Walking over to where Pseudolus stood, comparing paint swatches, Hysterium bowed his head and curtsied. This usually came naturally to him but now it felt hunched and awkward. “I am at your disposal, citizen.”

Pseudolus looked up, taken aback. “No, please, just Pseudolus is fine and you don’t have to do that bow thing.” 

“I- I’m sorry,” Hysterium said, nearly tripping over himself to stand upright but still refusing to look Pseudolus in the eyes. “What was it that you wanted of me?” 

But Pseudolus did not answer right away and instead watched Hysterium with concern. “I just wanted your opinion on something but... I really don’t know why things have to be this way between us.” 

Hysterium wished then that he could scream out everything on his mind and make Pseudolus understand why this was the way it would always be from now on. But of course, he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be correct for a slave to yell at a free citizen. So, instead, he just stood there in silence,  
stubbornly looking at a patch of grass by his feet. 

Pseudolus sighed and tossed the paint swatches to the ground in frustration. “I’m still me!” 

Hysterium finally glanced up at this and met Pseudolus’ eyes, mentally begging him to understand why, although that may have been true from his point of view, from society’s point of view, it couldn’t have been farther from the truth. 

They stared at each other in desperate and slightly awkward silence for a moment until the sound of the front door opening forced them back into reality. 

“Pseudolus,” Senex began, walking down the front steps towards them, “I trust the preparations are going well?” 

“Yes, of course,” Pseudolus answered without missing a beat, quickly retrieving the paint swatches from at his feet. “I was actually just looking for an opinion on these.” 

The two men chattered on about which color would look best as if Hysterium did not even exist. He was used to being ignored until he was needed but it still bothered him now no matter now much he wished it wouldn’t. 

“Well, at the end of the day, I think that is a question for my uh, lovely wife,” Senex proclaimed at last, choking on ‘lovely’. “And, Pseudolus, speaking of her, she has an errand that she would like you to run. Very pressing. Something about a fruit-tasting and fabric for a dress. I’m really not sure but she has it all written down here. Hysterium, take the list. You will accompany Pseudolus to the market.” 

“Of course, master,” Hysterium answered, not letting any of his inner thoughts color his tone of voice. 

All things considered, he did not have a bad life, even for a slave. He was fed, watered, rarely overworked, and hardly ever beaten but somehow, seeing Pseudolus walk with a newfound sense of confidence made him want more than what the life of a slave had to offer him. 

Perhaps he was just being selfish. Not long ago he had taken great pride in being a slave-in-chief so why did things have to change just because of Pseudolus? Why couldn’t he just be satisfied with what he had?

“Are you alright?” Pseudolus asked, breaking the silence Hysterium had barely noticed existed above his own contemplation. 

Hysterium hadn’t noticed at all that they had been walking for some time and were already well on their way to the market. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” he replied shortly and Pseudolus made no more attempt at conversation. 

It was unfair to take out his frustrations on Pseudolus like this, Hysterium thought to himself. After all, it wasn’t Pseudolus’ job to free every slave in Rome. 

But, on the other hand, had Hysterium himself not played a significant role in Pseudolus’s plot? Did he not also deserve the freedom that Pseudolus was now awarded? 

Of course, life did not take into account what was fair and Hysterium knew that he would simply have to get over himself or he would be miserable forever. 

Anyhow, soon enough, the wedding would be over and Pseudolus would be on his way. 

Hysterium paused at this thought. 

As much of a handful as Pseudolus had always been and as much as his presence troubled his thoughts now, Hysterium found that, deep down, he didn’t want him to leave. 

Life would go on but Hysterium would surely miss the melodies Pseudolus whistled as he worked. And how strange not to have anyone worth greeting in the mornings that he was not obligated to address with a title. 

As he looked up to glance in Pseudolus’ direction, he realized that they had just arrived at the market. 

As usual, the streets were buzzing with activity and, as it was already afternoon, they would have to hurry in order to get what they needed before it was sold out. 

“Alright,” Hysterium said, reviewing the list, “we need to split up if we’re going to get all of this.” 

He tore the list in half and handed the bottom to Pseudolus who stared at it intensely for a moment and then looked back up at Hysterium, grinning sheepishly. 

“Oh! Of course! I’m sorry,” Hysterium said, mentally kicking himself for forgetting that Pseudolus was illiterate. 

He read the two items off to Pseudolus who thanked him and started off towards the fabric vendor. 

“Pseudolus, wait!” 

Hysterium wasn’t even entirely sure of what he wanted to say but, as Pseudolus turned to look at him, he made up his mind. 

“I was just thinking... I mean, only if you were interested of course, maybe I could potentially... I could teach you how to read i-if you wanted,” he finally managed. 

In a moment, Pseudolus’ face lit up. 

“I would love that,” he said, smiling warmly.

“Great,” Hysterium replied, relieved yet unable to say more as he was lost in Pseudolus’ eyes which were glittering. 

The happiness was contagious and soon Hysterium found his lips forming a smile as well. Maybe things didn’t have to be so different after all. 

Finally, Pseudolus waved and turned away, continuing towards his destination on the other side of market. 

Hysterium watched him disappear into the crowd of busy shoppers and then turned us attention to his own errand. Fruit. 

Although the list said nothing more than what types of fruit were needed and how many of each, Hysterium had gathered from what little Senex had said exactly what Domina wanted. She was planning a fruit-tasting for Philia in preparation for the larger order that would go in right before the wedding and therefore freshness was of the utmost importance. Only the best for the soon-to-be newest member of the family, she would say. 

One bunch of grapes, two apples, three pears, and one pomegranate. Not too tall an order, although pomegranates were not always easy to come by. He would have to be lucky to find one of those this late in the day. 

Arriving at the fruit stand, he quickly noticed a single pomegranate left which he added to his basket immediately. The grapes did not take long to choose either but he found himself taking a lot of time to inspect the apples and pears before he found ones that he was satisfied with. 

Finally content with his selections, Hysterium paid the fruit vendor with money he had been allotted from Senex specifically for the purchase and started off towards where he was to meet Pseudolus who would surely be waiting for him. There was no time to waste. 

As he quickly rounded a corner, his face collided at full speed with a steel chest-plate, sending him toppling to the ground, clinging to his basket for dear life. 

He rubbed his head where it had hit the ground and looked up with horror to see what appeared to be a Roman soldier before him, clad in full armor. He was brushing off his chest-plate as if it had come into contact with something very unpleasant. 

“Don’t you look where you’re going, vermin?” he asked in a dangerously soft voice.

“I- I’m so terribly sorry,” Hysterium said, frozen with terror where he had fallen. “I- I-“ 

“Quiet!” he shouted, stepping forward, threateningly but stopping at once, just inches out of kicking range and pointed. “What’s that you have there?” 

Hysterium followed the man’s pointer finger down to his basket. 

“The pomegranate?” he asked, shaking with fear. 

“Yes,” the soldier answered. “Give that to me and I might consider leaving you as you are.”

Every one of Hysterium’s instincts screamed at him at once to give in. It was just a piece of fruit, after all. It wasn’t worth risking his life over. 

And yet, why was this man, soldier or not, owed anything from him? Had he not also turned a blind corner without looking? Why should status make any difference? 

Of course, they both knew well that it made all the difference. The appropriate thing to do was to give up the pomegranate. 

But what would Domina say? 

Even as these thoughts flashed through Hysterium’s mind in a matter of seconds, he quickly realized that he had been hesitating for too long. 

Enraged at the inaction, the soldier stepped forward, seized the basket from Hysterium’s shaking hands and plucked the pomegranate out, throwing the rest of its contents to the ground. 

He inspected his ill-gotten trophy for a moment and then crushed it in his hand. 

Hysterium paled, beginning to notice exactly how large the man’s fists were just before one connected with his face. 

Now half-blinded by pomegranate juice, he bit back the pain in his cheek. He needed to get out of here as quickly as possible. But, as he attempted to push himself to a standing position, he felt a booted foot come down heavily on his left ankle to keep him in place. There was an audible snap. 

As shock and fear and pain all swirled together into one great and terrible emotion, Hysterium looked from his throbbing ankle to the face of the soldier, who was smirking. 

“You’re not going anywhere, slave,” he said. “Not until you’ve learned your place.” 

With amusement, he pressed his foot down harder causing Hysterium to squeak with pain and cover his mouth with his hands. It was all he could do to keep from screaming. As the pressure on his ankle increased, waves of dizziness began to accompany the overwhelming pain as tears streamed down his face. Just when he was sure he was going to lose consciousness, the man’s foot lifted at last. 

But even as Hysterium felt physical relief washing over him, his mental anguish only increased as he heard the man’s threatening voice whisper to him: “Run.” 

It was a command, not a suggestion and, this time, Hysterium wasted no time following through. He pushed himself to his feet but, as he attempted to stand, his left ankle, now in unfathomable pain, gave out completely and he fell to his hands and knees, panting from the exertion. As dizziness and nausea began to overcome him, he willed himself to stay conscious. 

“Didn’t I tell you to run? Don’t you know how to follow orders?” the soldier asked, stepping dangerously close to where Hysterium had fallen. 

Although his half-conscious vision was plagued by moving black splotches and blurred by tears, he did his best to make eye contact with his assailant. 

“Please,” he begged over barely stifled sobs, shaking with pain and terror. “I’m so sorry. Please, please...” 

But the man just laughed at this and raised his foot to kick. 

Hysterium closed his eyes and braced for the pain. He would be lucky to survive the beating that was surely coming. And all because he didn’t want to give up a pomegranate on principle. How distant and stupid these new principles of his seemed now. Now he was going to die for them. 

But suddenly, a familiar voice filled his ears. 

“What in the name of the Gods is going on here?” 

Hysterium felt relief flooding through every inch of his body as he opened his eyes to see the source of the voice standing just feet away: Pseudolus. 

“Who are you supposed to be?” the soldier asked, setting his foot down from where it was stopped mid-kick. 

“That’s not important,” Pseudolus said, kneeling down next to Hysterium and wiping the pomegranate juice and sweat from his face to reveal a raised welt where he had been hit. “How dare you hurt him?” 

“How dare I?” the man asked, outraged. “Do you know who I am? And who are you anyway? His master?” 

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t got a clue who you are and I couldn’t care less,” Pseudolus said without hesitation or fear. “And my name is Pseudolus and I’m not his master, I’m his friend.” 

The soldier chuckled. “Well Pseudolus, friend of slaves, I will have you know that I am a soldier of the Roman Army. Not only that but I am expecting a promotion this week. Miles Gloriosus, my captain, is going to put in a good word for me with the General.” 

“Oh is he?” Pseudolus asked, his face lighting up. “Well then, I would think you’d be fascinated to know that the master of this particular slave has a son who is set to marry your captain’s sister in a month’s time!” 

Looking as if the wind had been knocked out of him the soldier stammered. “B-But... That’s not... I thought he had no family! That can’t be!” 

“Oh yes, indeed it can. Pirates, a gaggle of geese, long-lost father and sister, it’s a long story,” Pseudolus said, shrugging. 

The man shifted uncomfortably as he thought over this new information. 

“You’re bluffing,” he declared at last. 

“Maybe I am,” Pseudolus said with a poisonous grin. “But assuming I’ll be telling your captain everything before he can speak to the general, are you really willing to take that chance?” 

There was no answer from the soldier as he stared at Pseudolus as if trying to detect whether or not he was lying but Pseudolus just winked back. 

“My advice to you is skip town, change your identity, lay low,” he began, “because I would hate to have to watch you get publicly flogged... and by ‘hate’, I mean I would love every minute of it.” 

And, with one last look at Pseudolus’ dead serious expression, the man turned on his heel and ran. 

Without even acknowledging his victory, Pseudolus immediately turned his attention to Hysterium who was watching the vacant spot where the soldier had stood, mesmerized. 

“Hysterium, are you-“ 

But Pseudolus had not yet finished his question when Hysterium suddenly embraced him in a tight hug, his body wracked with sobs. 

After a moment of surprise, Pseudolus gently reciprocated the hug, rubbing Hysterium’s back comfortingly and murmuring consolations in his ear. 

They stayed like that, not concerned of the glances or stares of the people of the market or the passing of time, until Hysterium finally managed to get his breathing under control and pulled back from the hug.

“I’m s-sorry,” he managed, still shaking slightly. 

Pseudolus shook his head. “What are you apologizing for?” 

“I was so foolish and now, because of me... the fruit...” Hysterium gestured to the street where the remains of the fruit basket were littered. 

“Hysterium...” Pseudolus began, kindly. “We can buy more fruit. You are irreplaceable.”

Looking up with surprise at this answer, Hysterium could feel tears threatening to fall down his cheeks but he fought against them. It was finally sinking in that Pseudolus had probably just saved his life. 

“Here, let me help you up and we’ll go back to the house so you can rest,” Pseudolus said, standing up and offering Hysterium a hand. 

At once, Hysterium remembered his ankle and the pain came flooding back into his consciousness. 

“I can’t walk,” he said, shifting to reveal his broken ankle which was now horribly swollen and turning purple. 

Pseudolus immediately dropped back down to his knees, his face turning ashen as he inspected Hysterium’s injury. 

“I should have killed him when I had the chance,” Pseudolus muttered to himself, glancing in the direction the soldier had fled but abandoned the idea immediately in favor of the matter at hand. 

“I’ll carry you,” Pseudolus offered. 

Hysterium blinked. “Carry me? All the way back to the house? Pseudolus-“

“Pseudolus nothing. It’s no trouble and it’s getting dark out. You need to get back and rest so that you can heal,” Pseudolus insisted. 

Hysterium considered this for a moment. The sky was indeed, beginning to darken and the pain in his ankle only seemed to be getting worse. 

“Alright,” Hysterium said at last, seeing no other option. 

Pseudolus nodded and, with that, he put a hand around Hysterium’s upper back and another under his knees and gently picked him up off of the ground. 

Although the market had largely cleared out, Hysterium still had to attempt to ignore the stares and pointing fingers of the people they passed. Largely unsuccessful at this, he looked down from them and his face flushed red. 

Ever perceptive, Pseudolus took in a breath of the crisp evening air and then spoke in a comforting whisper. “You worry too much, Hysterium.” 

There were so many things that Hysterium envied about Pseudolus and his attitude towards life was one of them. Pseudolus didn’t worry about what others thought about him; he simply had goals and worked to achieve them. 

Hysterium had always viewed this as a negative trait in him when Pseudolus was a slave but now, it seemed more and more like something to aspire towards. 

As they left the market and started down the path that would take them back to the house, Hysterium studied Pseudolus’ face, illuminated by moonlight. He told himself that it was just the pain from his ankle addling his brain but there really was something very pleasing about it. 

Every line of his face seemed to tell a story that Hysterium longed to listen to and, though his eyes were shaded with concern, the moonlight still glittered in them. There was so much beauty there that Hysterium had never bothered to take note of before. 

Maybe Pseudolus was right about what he had said earlier. He was still himself, after all and maybe that mattered more than what society thought. To Hysterium, it mattered more and social order was beginning to matter less and less, at least, when it came to Pseudolus. 

Because, as Hysterium watched him now, he didn’t see a slave or a citizen, he just saw Pseudolus. 

He wanted to speak of what was on his mind but no words seemed to truly encapsulate his thoughts and exhaustion was finally beginning to catch up with him. 

So, instead, he simply relaxed into Pseudolus’ arms and allowed peaceful sleep to take him.


End file.
